All I Want
by rippingbutterflywings
Summary: After tragedy strikes and she loses a friend, Clary Fray doesn't know what to do. She signs up to help organize a music festival in her friend's honor, hoping to find some answers. In the process, she meets Jace Wayland, who not only lost the same person she did, but may also be the only person she can grieve with. Co-written with clarissadele. AU/AH/OOC.
1. When It Rains

_rippingbutterflywings: Hi, guys! So, this is my first collaboration, which I'm really excited about. The lovely clarissadele brought up the idea of writing a story together, and I've always wanted to write something with someone else, so we went for it. It's been awesome, to be honest. (We only have one chapter, but I feel like I can say that already.) I really am looking forward to exploring different themes with this story and stuff, so yay! I hope you like this chapter, and thank you for reading!_

_clarissadele: Hi, I'm clarissadele, previously 4everallways! I'm really exciting to be collaborating on this story and hope you all enjoy it! Reviews would make our day! Thanks!_

_**The characters in this story belong to Cassandra Clare**_

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><p><em>And oh, oh, how could you do it?<em>

_Oh I, I never saw it coming  
><em>_Oh, oh, I need the ending  
><em>_So why can't you stay just long enough to explain?_

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><p>She felt the grains of sand dig into her bare thighs as she shifted into a comfortable position, looking out into the horizon. The sky was painted of the most vibrant colors, shades of purple and pink and orange that were so unbelievably beautiful she couldn't bring herself to paint them. She could only stare.<p>

Clary's hair, which was the shade of the deepest shade of red in the sunset, continuously slapped her face as the wind blew it into different directions. Annoyed, she tied it up into a bun, wishing, for the first time, that it were shorter. She looked out as the sky became more blue and purple than its previous colors, saw as the darkness painted over the day and the moon hung itself up in the sky.

She wanted to move, but she couldn't. If she went inside the house, her mother would just bombard her with questions, and she couldn't take any more questions. She'd already taken enough from the last week of her senior year, with the furrowed brows and the overly concerned teachers who, despite everything, did not cancel finals.

Because a student's death is not, apparently, a good enough reason to stop testing.

She heard footsteps approaching, and her head snapped up as if it had a life of its own. It was just one of the boys who lived in one of the houses; she'd seen him many times before. Jace Wayland. Blonde and tall and so very beautiful. She knew that he had been friends with _him_, too.

She still couldn't bring herself to say his name before fearing that she would fall apart into a million jagged pieces.

She bit her lip and stood up; she'd been out for too long. Clary slipped her jacket back on and made her way inside the house, where her mother, brother, and stepfather were waiting for her.

Jocelyn Fray was the first one to look at her when she walked into the house. "Are you hungry?" she asked her daughter, wearing a too-tight smile on her face.

To please her mother, Clary nodded. "Did you make dinner?"

"The day Mom stops making dinner will be the day I move out," Jon said. "Hey, Clary. Where were you?" He gave her the _Mom was going crazy, so why didn't you come back earlier? _look. She rolled her eyes at her brother and took a plate from the cupboard.

"I was just outside, a couple of houses down."

"Can I talk to you?" he asked.

She finished serving her food and nodded, following him into his room. Her mother used to be strict about the kids taking food to their bedrooms, but, since one of Clary's best friends died, Jocelyn decided that whether her kid ate in her bedroom or not was not exactly the most important thing in the universe.

Still, Clary snuck a glance at her, and she did not look pleased. Knowing she would not get scolded, though, she walked after her brother anyway, waiting for him to shut the door. She sat at his desk, setting her plate down on her lap. "What's up?"

"Mom is really, really worried."

"She asked you to talk to me, didn't she?" At his hesitation, she let out a sigh. "Jon, seriously."

"Clary, look, you're doing fine, in my opinion, but the truth is you haven't seen your friends outside of school, so that's slightly concerning, and you've been studying way too much this week."

"Would you rather I spend that time bawling my eyes out?" She gave him an incredulous look and, after taking her plate from her lap, stood up. "I'm going to my room."

"Clary—"

"Shut up, Jon."

She left the room in a hurry, angry tears forming in her eyes. She could not believe that her brother, of all people, was lecturing her on how to deal with feelings. This was the guy who punched a hole into the wall of his room when his girlfriend cheated on him.

She locked herself in her room, taking deep breaths. _Calm down_, Clary said to herself, taking deep breaths. She took her iPod and her headphones, clicking play on her classical music playlist.

Ever since she was little, music was the only thing to calm her down. Whenever she needed to relax, or to study, or to disconnect from the world, she just listened to her favorites and took a deep breath as she lay down on her bed and looked up at the ceiling or closed her eyes. Two hours of Yo Yo Ma awaited her, and she didn't care whether her food was going to be cold by the time she reopened her eyes. She didn't care, she didn't care, she didn't care.

She just breathed.

* * *

><p>His funeral was the next day. There was a great turnout; over half of the school attended. It made sense; he was well liked and friends with most of the senior class. Clary caught sight of her best friend, Simon Lewis, across the parking lot. Next to him was his girlfriend, and one of Clary's other friends, Isabelle. Isabelle Lightwood was drop-dead gorgeous; with her incredible fashion sense and perfect makeup, she usually had the boys all drooling, despite the fact that she was with Simon. Today, however, she looked the exact opposite. Her face was practically bare, her hair tied back unceremoniously, and her plain black dress was hanging from her shoulders. On a normal day, she wouldn't have been seen outside of her house that way. But this wasn't a normal day.<p>

Clary looked back and saw her brother and parents walking together. Her parents claimed they had come for him and his parents, because they had known him too, but Clary could see their true motives. They were there to make sure that she was okay. And she absolutely hated it. She hated that their presence was so overwhelming and annoying and that they asked her _are you okay_ every day, like anyone would be okay after one of her best friends passed away. They were always looking over their shoulders to check that she was still there.

And she understood, but she really, really, really hated it.

Isabelle and Simon met her halfway, their faces grim. Clary didn't know if she looked quite as bad as the two of them, but she felt a thousand times worse on the inside.

"Hi," she said to them, feeling like she needed to say more, but the words couldn't form themselves in her mind. There were too many things she needed to tell the two of them, too many things she hadn't mustered up the courage to say during this past week and a half. She hadn't seen them outside of the school's too-crowded halls, and here they were. Her two best friends.

"Hey," Simon said, wrapping her in a hug. She squeezed back, growing scared of letting go. Despite the two of them being her absolute best friends, she'd known Simon longer. He was there when she learned to ride a bike and ended up with scrapes and bruises all over her body. He was there when she twisted her ankle in the first grade. He was there long before Isabelle, and, because of this, he would always be her primary source of comfort.

When he let go, it was Isabelle's turn. The two of them hugged, and Clary closed her eyes. She'd asked herself what she would have done if either one of these two had been the one to go, and it was the only thing that resonated in her mind. _It could've been you_, she wanted to say, but the thought made her eyes water and her chest feel like it was far too heavy for her body to hold. She didn't say anything, just walked with them the rest of the way.

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><p>His family wasn't very religious, so they had opted to hold the funeral in the cemetery, not at a church. Clary sat next to Simon, who had Isabelle on his other side. Her parents were sitting a few rows back, and as much as they were still scrutinizing her, at least they weren't hovering. The service was short; the speaker stumbled over his words, and in Clary's opinion, did a pretty bad job; but she knew <em>he<em> would have laughed. She could almost picture him sitting by her side, snickering at the speaker's nervousness and the cheesy words he read from a crumpled up piece of paper.

But, when she turned to find him, she saw Simon.

She almost felt like bursting into tears in the middle of the service. There were so many things that she wanted to say to him about everything—about the big moments and the small ones, about how much she loved him—but all she had was empty space and a coffin that felt all too close to her.

In it was his body. Or what remained of it, anyway.

She caught Jace Wayland's eye as he surveyed the crowd. They lingered on her as she met his gaze straight on, not looking away. He was another of his best friends, though they mostly spent time together because of football. She looked away after his mom went up to the front of the coffin to say a few words.

She wanted to look at anyone but his mom. She looked so broken, so utterly devastated, that her entire body hurt after she looked at the woman standing in front of her. She looked like she'd aged ten years in the past week and a half, like she gained all the years he lost because of a single, fleeting moment.

Clary didn't want to hear her speak.

But she had to do it. She reached out to hold Simon's hand, and he squeezed tightly enough that she felt her fingers might break. She tried everything to ignore the words stumbling out of the lady's mouth, the same woman who loved to bake and was there for him even with a 9-to-5 job. But they were too strong and too fast, and she caught parts of it, like the initial "thank you" at the people who showed up, and the fact that he was a good boy, and a great son, and a nice friend, and an example. Clary wanted to block her out as she started to cry in front of the hundreds of people at the funeral, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene.

"I'm gonna be sick," she whispered to Simon.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, bringing her close. "You're gonna be okay."

She shook her head as the woman's husband helped her back to her seat. She didn't know what to do. She felt bad when, a week earlier, she told his mother that she couldn't speak at the funeral. His girlfriend was about to go up; Clary was supposed to go after her. She felt sick—physically sick—as she heard person after person speak about the person he was, the person he wanted to be, and what he did for them. She wanted to run until her lungs burned and she couldn't breathe.

But she couldn't move.

So she just stayed right there. His coffin was lowered into the grave, and she watched. Almost everyone left for the reception and she watched them leave. The rest of the chairs were put away, but the workers left her be. She caught their understanding and sympathetic looks, but she didn't care. She just sat.

Eventually, she walked over to the banquet hall where the reception was being held and joined everyone inside. She walked over to where her friends stood. Isabelle, Simon, Jonathan, Aline, Helen, Isabelle's brother Alec, his boyfriend Magnus, and Maia. But not him.

Jordan Kyle was the life of the party. Nothing would ever be the same.

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><p><em>Let us know what you think! <em>


	2. When The World Comes Down

_rippingbutterflywings: Hey, guys! So, here's the next chapter for this story. :D Thank you so, so much to everyone who's read/reviewed/favorited/followed this story. I mean, we were both ridiculously happy about the reaction this story got, so thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)_

_clarissadele: Thanks everyone for reviewing/favoriting/following and I hope you all have a merry Christmas!_

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><p><em>What can we do better?<br>When will we know how?_

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><p>The reception was short, and Clary watched as guests went to greet Jordan's parents. If she were them, she would be sick of hearing it already, sick of hearing people say "I'm sorry for your loss" over and over again with an overly sympathetic expression on their faces. When it came to be Clary's turn to speak to Jordan's mother, she just gave her a hug and said nothing else, because she didn't want to be remembered as one of the other people who said she was sorry when she was an infinite amount of other things, too.<p>

Simon and Isabelle made their way over to her. She stood far away so that she could watch the people hug Jordan's crying mother and his stoic-looking father, who was very obviously trying to be strong. Clary could only imagine the storm inside of the two of them, the things they think about when they're alone. She shook her head as her friends stood beside them in silence.

"Do you wanna go somewhere after this?" Isabelle asked Clary. Obviously, she had already had that conversation with Simon, and, clearly, he had already agreed.

The wind made her shiver. It was early June, but it was chilly anyway. She let her hair down, which was a terrible mistake, she realized. She wore tights under her dress and a cardigan to keep her warm, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being cold. Maybe it was anxiety, or nerves, or the fact that she needed to move, but she couldn't stand still without freezing.

One of her friends was dead.

"Sure," Clary said, giving in. She felt guilty. Although her friends had each other to grieve with, she still needed to be there for them. _It could've been them_, she reminded herself, and then she wanted to slap herself for only coming up with that lame justification for hanging out with them. They were her _friends_. She loved nobody else as much as she loved them. There was nothing in the world she wouldn't do for them.

But she was tired.

"Izzy was thinking of going to a diner," Simon told Clary. "Just in case you were wondering."

She shrugged. "I'll go anywhere as long as we leave soon. I can't stand being here anymore."

"Yeah," Isabelle muttered. "Me neither."

"We can just leave, right?" Clary asked her friend, basically begging with her eyes. "There's no, like, afterparty or anything?"

Isabelle stared at her as if she'd grown two heads. "This is a _funeral_, Clary."

She shrugged once more. "It's my first one."

"Jesus," Simon remarked, shaking his head. His hair was shaggy, almost covering his eyes. "We can leave, Clary."

"I'll call my parents." Clary whipped out her phone and dialed Jocelyn's number. Simon mother was talking to them; she could see them from where she stood. When her mother finally answered, she wasted no time. "Hey, Mom, can I go a diner with my friends?"

"Sure, honey," Jocelyn replied. "Just be safe out there."

"I will."

"I love you," Jocelyn said to her.

"I love you too, Mom."

After hanging up, she followed her two best friends over to Isabelle's car. She was relieved when Isabelle drove away. She saw the people grow smaller as they made their way out of the cemetery, away from where Jordan's lifeless body lay underground.

She tried not to think about it the whole way to the diner. No one spoke, but music from Simon's iPod filled the silence.

_You can sit beside me when the world comes down,  
><em>_If it doesn't matter, then just turn around.  
><em>_We don't need our bags, and we can just leave town,  
><em>_You can sit beside me when the world comes down._

After five songs, they made it to the diner. It was mostly empty, which wasn't very shocking, since it was only eleven o'clock on a Saturday morning, and people liked to sleep. Or so Clary guessed, anyway.

They settled on a booth at the very end. Clary saw, shocked, that Isabelle decided to sit beside her instead of by Simon's side. She didn't react too strongly to it, though, but she hadn't had much one-on-one interaction with Isabelle ever since before Jordan died.

"So that was depressing," Isabelle said lightly.

"Isabelle!" Simon replied sharply.

"What?" she asked, giving him a look. "It's true."

"It was," Clary said, speaking up before Simon had a chance to retaliate. "Then again, this whole thing is depressing."

"Agreed," Isabelle replied. "Makes me wanna get wasted."

"Oh God," Simon commented, shaking his head. "Isabelle, please."

Isabelle shook her head. "What?"

"Do you guys want me to leave?" Clary asked, sharper than she meant to. "Because I don't wanna be the third wheel when you two are gonna just fight the entire time."

The two of them shut up at that. Simon raked a hand through his hair, and Isabelle buried her face in her hands. The truth was that they were all tense. And scared. They were very, very scared, terrified of the mere possibility of another tragedy striking. They thought, at the very least, that they were invincible in the sense that they would always be there, that they would see each other go through graduation, and then through college, and job interviews, and careers, and marriages, and broken hearts, and all of the things that were supposed to happen before a friend passed away.

But then they realized that it didn't happen that way, and it scared the shit out of them.

"I'm sorry," Isabelle spoke up. "I'm just stressed. And tired. And, oh my God, wasn't that service just _terrible_?"

"Yeah," Clary joked half-heartedly. "I don't think that damn speaker even knew what he was doing."

"Did they just pull him off the side of the road and go, 'Hey, do you want to speak at my son's funeral? You only need to half-ass the speech; really, it's easy work," Simon added.

"Come on, Simon, we are all stricken with grief. If I were them, I wouldn't be thinking straight either. Hell, he was our friend. I'm still not." Isabelle reached over the table and grabbed Simon's hand. Clary looked away from them.

She was happy for her friends, she truly was. She was glad that they had each other, but it was just hard for her to be around them, especially at a time like this. Instead, she opted to stare out the window of the diner, and only when the people walking past the window outside started to blur did she realize that she was crying.

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><p>Simon and Isabelle dropped off Clary at her front door later that day. Instead of going inside her house, however, she headed towards the beach. A walk would help clear her mind.<p>

The sea breeze ruffled her hair as she stepped onto the sand. Clary bent down to untie her shoelaces before pulling them off and letting her bare feet sink into the ground, the sand settling between her toes. The sun had started to set.

Clary remembered the summer days when she was younger. She would sit on the beach with her mom and watch the sunset. They would both have their sketchbooks and paint sets with them. Eventually, Jonathan and Luke would join them, and they would sit together as Luke told them stories and Jocelyn and Clary painted the sunset.

She remembered a time when she used greens and purples and blues instead of oranges, yellows, and pinks. Jonathan leaned over her sketchbook and told her that it didn't look like a sunset because she used the wrong colors. Jocelyn had looked over at them both, ruffled Jon's hair, and told him that Clary's sunset could be any way she imagined it. Clary imagined that she was watching the sunset with her friends instead of by herself. That Jordan was there with them.

But it didn't work. He wasn't coming back.

"Beautiful night."

Clary jumped and looked up to the person who had startled her. Jace Wayland stood a few feet away, the fading sunlight shining off of his golden blond hair. He grinned at her, and she felt her face turn red in embarrassment. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's fine," Clary replied, awkwardly rocking back and forth on her heels. She was never really good at interacting with guys; it just wasn't a thing she'd ever had a chance to do. At least not with people who were as attractive and unavailable as Jace, anyway.

"The funeral today was pretty depressing. I didn't know you and Jordan were friends." His hands were shoved inside the pockets of his pants.

"I've known him since we were little," Clary said, surprised that he even knew who she was.

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry for your loss," Jace responded, shading his eyes from the sun.

"Yeah, me too," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "You were friends with him too, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Then ditto," she replied, wanting to steer clear of the actual apology. Aside from a small nod in acknowledgement, he didn't say anything back to her.

"Well, I'll see you around, Clary." He offered her a small smile and turned around to head back towards his own house.

Clary shivered and turned around to go back to her house.

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><p>She was sitting on her bed when her phone vibrated by her side.<p>

Clary almost missed the call, but she didn't. She paused the music that was playing from her iPod and looked at the Caller ID. _Maia_. What could she possibly want at midnight?

"Hello?" Clary asked, her voice groggy and slightly croaky from being unused in hours.

"Clary?" Maia sounded...weird. Energetic. _Frantic_. "Is that you?"

"Well, yeah," she replied, dumbfounded. "What's up?"

"I have an idea."

"What kind of idea?"

"Well, I was talking to Jordan's mom, and—well, it's a long story, but I just feel like I'm missing something."

"What do you mean?"

Maia let out what Clary translated as a frustrated sigh. "Well," the former said, "I feel like there's something keeping me from moving on."

Clary didn't know what to say to that. She'd been struggling, the feeling of drowning catching up to her just as she pulled herself up, but it was nothing compared to what Maia must have been feeling. She and Jordan dated for almost three years; before that, they'd been best friends for years. They were inseparable. Clary hadn't known a time in which the two of them were not joined at the hip.

Her heart was stuck in her throat. "Maia—"

"No," she said, and Clary could picture her shaking her head. "Listen, I'm not gonna do this right now. I just had an idea, and I consulted with Jordan's mom, and she said it would be good."

Clary figured that she had one of two options. She could either tell Maia that, whatever it was, it wasn't going to help her. She could tell her that he was gone forever and that whatever she was doing wasn't going to change the fact that she was never going to be able to talk to her boyfriend/best friend/practically _family _again.

Or she could listen to her idea.

"Okay," Clary told Maia, "I'm all ears."

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><p><em>Let us know what you think! Happy holidays! xo<em>


	3. Could It Be Another Change

_rippingbutterflywings: Hey, guys! I know that we took a little while with this chapter, but we've had a pretty hectic couple of weeks, and we couldn't really get on at the same time until this week. So...yeah. Here's the next chapter. I hope you guys like it, and thank you for reading! xo_

_clarissadele: Hey, guys, really sorry for the wait but rippingbutterflywings and I have both been super busy with school and stuff lately. Huge shoutout to everyone who read the last chapter! You rock! Till next time!_

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><p>The next morning, Clary found herself sitting in Jordan's living room with a cup of tea in her hands. Maia, along with Jordan's parents, had wanted her to come over as quickly as possible so that they could start to figure out plans for Maia's idea. Simon and Isabelle were there as well, but they hadn't been filled in on the situation quite yet.<p>

Jordan's mom walked into the room with Maia. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders; it was the same exact colour that his was. She smiled at Clary, Isabelle, and Simon, but it did not reach her eyes. Clary wondered if she would ever look the way she used to when Jordan was still around. "Thank you for coming this morning," she greeted them all.

"It's no problem, Mrs. Kyle," Isabelle said, with a politeness in her tone that Clary knew she only reserved for adults.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and, moments later, none other than Jace Wayland strolled into the room and came to stand beside the couch that Clary was perched on. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Jace," Jordan's mom replied, waving it off. "We haven't even discussed anything yet. Maia, would you like to explain your idea?"

"Sure," Maia said, grinning halfheartedly at the group. "I had a thought yesterday. I think that we can all agree that the funeral did not do Jordan any justice or celebrate his life whatsoever. So, I was thinking that maybe we could find our own way to honor his memory. Jordan loved music; he and Simon were in a band together. I was talking to our friend Bat, who graduated a couple years back, because he's big into music. He booked the amphitheatre in the park for a couple months from now.

"My thought was that we could put together a music festival in Jordan's honor and donate all the money we raise to one of his favourite charities. Bat already booked the venue for us, and he can help us with a lot of other things as well when we get closer to the date. But we'd still need help. So...what do you guys think?"

Clary had known most of the information already from when Maia had called her the night before, so, as Maia explained what was happening, she was mostly watching for reactions from her friends and Jace. Jace, whom she didn't even really know. He was a surprise that Maia had definitely not mentioned.

Isabelle was the first to speak about Maia's idea. "I think that you have a great idea in organizing this all for Jordan, Maia, but I don't know about this. I mean, there aren't that many of us, and even if I enlisted Alec and Magnus to help us out, do you think we'd even be able to pull it off?"

"We have months to figure it all out, Izzy," Maia pointed out.

"Besides," Jace said. "I don't know any of you too well, but I think we all know that Jordan would want to go out with a bang. And that shit that was his funeral definitely didn't do him any justice."

"So, what do you say?" Maia asked.

"I'm in," Jace responded.

"Me too," Simon said.

"Same," Isabelle added. They all looked at Clary, waiting for her to say something.

"Okay," she said slowly. "Let's do this."

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><p>After long hours of trying to plan the music festival, Clary was feeling just about ready to give up.<p>

The thing was, before she actually sat down with the four other people who were planning this event, she didn't think of it as a tangible idea. She thought of the end project, of stages full of bands and music filling the air as people danced and Jordan's memory would be very much _there_.

But, as they began to list everything they needed to do in the moments leading up to the festival, she realized that this was very, _very_ hard. They had the venue, sure, and Maia said that Bat was taking care of the stages and lighting, but they still needed to find sponsors for food and drinks, make flyers, and, slightly more importantly, find _actual performers_.

They were so royally screwed.

"Why didn't we plan this for December?" Clary groaned, shaking her head.

"Seriously," Isabelle said. "I know that we wanna do this, but we only have two and a half months to organize this entire event."

"I know, okay?" Maia bit her lip. "But we'll figure this out. Bat and his band will play. Simon's already offered to play, so that's good. I'm asking Bat to see if he knows of any way to contact big acts, and two of you will audition local ones."

Clary's head snapped up. "Two of us?"

"Are you volunteering?"

_It's better than finding sponsors to provide the food_, she thought. After nodding, she said, "Yeah, I'm in. That sounds nice."

"All we need is a second person. _Actually_," Maia said, turning to Jace, "this one's good. Izzy and Simon are working on food and drinks and every other expense, because Simon's a certified math genius, so you two will work on the design and entertainment."

"Design?"

"Making a website, printing out posters, finding the performers—all of that."

"That...doesn't sound bad," Clary said. "Okay." She walked over to where Jace was seated and plopped down beside him. "Hi. What should we do first?"

"Well, the first thing we need to do is find the bands." He tapped his pencil against the currently blank piece of paper that he'd been given. "You're really good with graphic design, right?"

"Average," she corrected.

"It's better than my nonexistent technological skills. Okay, so can you make a poster to advertise the audition?"

"Where should we hold it? And when?"

"Well, today's Monday, so maybe on Friday?"

"We're gonna waste a whole week?" she asked him, incredulous.

"It gives bands time to prepare, and it also gives us time to come up with different advertisement

ideas," he said, unappalled by her incredulity.

She gave him a look that hopefully made her seem apologetic and nodded. "Okay. I'll make the flyer now," she said, taking out her laptop from her bag. When Maia had called, she'd given specific instructions to bring her computer "for research purposes." Though Clary hadn't necessarily understood her, she also really didn't have it in her to complain or ask any questions, so she did as Maia said.

"You brought your—"

"Long story," she said, waving him off.

For the next hour, she worked on designing the flyer, constantly asking Jace for his opinion on fonts, color schemes, and overall layouts. They took a break only to make an email account just for the festival, and then resumed their flyer-making project. By the time it was one o'clock, they were ready to show the other three people what they'd accomplished thus far.

"That's good!" Maia said, clapping her hands. "Okay, Mr. and Mrs. Kyle have agreed to let use their printer. They said it's the least they could do." She shrugged. "You guys know where the office is, right?"

The two of them nodded and stood up, Clary with her laptop in hand. They walked to the office room, which was empty. There was an entire row full of bookshelves, which were filled with books and binders and photo albums. Clary knew because, sometimes, when Jordan was sleeping or when she was waiting for him to get home from soccer practice, Mrs. Kyle would sit her down on the sofa in the office and show her pictures of Jordan as he grew up. Because of those days, Clary knew what newborn Jordan looked like, as well as two-year-old Jordan, and pre-school Jordan, and gap-toothed Jordan. She'd taken pictures of some of those pictures, too, and when she found out that Jordan had died, she took those pictures out and she looked at them until her eyes were too blurry and the pictures were stained with saltwater.

Now, as she looked at the neatly-stacked photo albums at the bottom of the last shelf, she tried to feel indifferent. She plugged in her computer to the printer, which had already been installed on her computer, and printed as many copies of the flyer as she could. Jace and Clary waited in a comfortable silence, looking around at the details of the room. They looked at the books and the paintings and portraits that hung in the room, and, when she saw Jordan in one of the pictures, she had to look away.

"I didn't know you two were that close," Clary said to Jace, breaking the silence.

He nodded. "We've been friends for five years."

She didn't know what to say to that, because she was dangerously close to spewing out an insincere-sounding _I'm sorry_. She kept the words to herself, locked them deep in her mind, and turned to see the ink levels on the printer. There was still forty percent of ink left, and they'd printed out one-hundred flyers.

"He talked about you, you know."

Her head snapped up. "He did?"

Jace nodded once more. "It mostly started happening after he figured out that we're basically neighbors, and then he was like, 'Dude, Clary's awesome. She's so smart. She knows how to paint like a motherfucker, and she's so rad, and you should talk to her.'" He shook his head. "He was always trying to get me to make more friends."

"Well, you don't have many," she blurted out, her eyes widening. When he raised his eyebrows, she relaxed. "Just an observation."

"You're right," he conceded, pacing around the room. "I don't have many friends. I don't think I have any good ones at all now."

Her expression softened. She'd been thinking, this entire time, about how terrible it was that she'd lost one of her best friends, and how she would never get over it, but Jace—Jace lost his _only_ friend.

"Jace—"

He shook his head, keeping her from speaking up. "How are the ink levels?"

Despite her need to bring up the subject again, she looked over. "Twenty percent, and we've printed about one hundred and fifty copies."

"That should be fine, right?"

She shrugged. "I suppose. It _is _a small town."

They stopped printing the flyers and walked back into the living room with their 150-odd copies. The living room was empty, however. Jace and Clary looked around until they saw a note that said _out to bring lunch! _and relaxed.

"It's just us?"

"And the Kyles," Jace reminded her.

"Oh, joy," she muttered. Just what she needed in her life. To be stuck in this particular house.

"Do you wanna go out for a walk? We can start stapling these," Jace said, waving around the flyers.

"Do you have a staple gun or whatever?"

"I saw one in the office."

"Then yes, please."

After Jace got the staple gun from the office, the two of them walked out on the street. It was a nice, early June day, and the sky was clear. It looked almost unreal: the sky was a kind of blue that she had never really seen in real life. It was the purest sky blue, intense and present and beautiful. She most likely looked like an idiot, with her head up in the direction of the sky, as she found herself dumbfounded by the beauty and immensity of it. She shook her head and brought it down, meeting Jace's amused gaze.

"It's pretty," she said.

"It's there every day," he reminded her.

Clary knew that she sounded stupid, so she shook her head once more, found a tree, and stapled a flyer to it.

The two of them continued down their path. Because they lived in a small town, there really wasn't the need to print out billions of flyers. They had twenty for each neighborhood (there were five) and fifty more to staple around town and near the school. They could _do_ this. People would call. Auditions _would _happen.

She didn't know what she'd do if they didn't.

Her phone rang, snapping her out of her reverie. "Hello?"

"Clary! Did you leave the house?"

"We're stapling flyers around the neighborhood. Do you have food? Because I'm starving."

"Then get your ass over here. We have a ton of food."

"We'll be there in ten."

They were fairly far away from the house, but they basically ran back, exhaustion and hunger taking over their need to go at a slower pace and talk. They were starting to _really _sweat, but, as for Clary, she didn't give a damn.

Eight minutes later, they knocked on the Kyles' door, and Maia opened with a grin and a french fry in hand. "Come in."

They'd gone to Wendy's. Of course.

They ate for a while, the air conditioning cooling them off. Clary joined Isabelle and Simon, who told them about their quick decision to make food. Basically, they felt guilty for even thinking of asking Mrs. Kyle to cook, so they ran out to get some Wendy's while Clary and Jace printed what they thought would be a shitton of flyers.

"And you didn't think to let us know?" She raised an eyebrow, taking a bite out of her chicken burger.

"Nope. We already know what you like, and Maia knows what Jace likes. Apparently," Isabelle added, because she realized how very wrong that may have sounded, "they double dated a lot."

"Jace has a girlfriend?"

"He's had a lot."

Clary shrugged and continued to eat. She frankly didn't care if he had a girlfriend or two or just hooked up casually. In that moment, she only cared about two things: eating, and making sure that this festival would happen.

As soon as she finished eating, she realized how tired she was. It was almost six o'clock; they'd been at Jordan's house for about seven, maybe eight hours. She let out a yawn, half-embarrassed about it. But, to be honest, she was tired. There was nothing she could do about it.

They were all sitting in the living room. Maia was on the floor, typing on her computer, while Jace was sitting on a reclining chair. Clary, Isabelle, and Simon sat on the bigger sofa. It was dark outside already, so the yellowish lighting of the house was dimmer than usual.

"Who's taking you home?" Isabelle asked Clary upon hearing her yawn.

"I thought you were," she replied, frowning. "I told you my brother couldn't pick me back up because he has a summer class at night."

"Shit," she swore. "Simon and I have a dinner with his mom and sister, and it's kind of...important." She made a face.

"I can take you," a voice said. She turned to her right and saw Jace Wayland's golden hair. "We're practically neighbors."

"You," Izzy said, "are a lifesaver."

He shrugged. "I'm going to the same place, right?"

Clary bit her lip and nodded. "Okay."

"So do you wanna leave now?"

"Yeah," she replied.

He got up from his chair and started gathering his stuff. She thought that it all went down in a pretty awkward manner, but she brushed it off. She said goodbye to her friends and said she'd be in touch, and, to Mr. and Mrs. Kyle, she said that she'd be back soon. She walked out the door with Jace shortly after their decision to leave, her bag slung over her shoulder and her phone in hand.

Jace drove a blue pickup truck, which Clary found surprisingly awesome. She got inside the car, admiring the view from a taller car, especially since she was so short. He looked over at her and asked if she was ready before taking off, and there they were, twenty minutes away from their home.

While they lived by the beach, Jordan definitely did not. Neither did many people, which was why she was lucky that her best friends had cars and a lot of gas money. She sat back and tried to relax, but she was insanely aware of Jace's presence.

"Do you wanna play some music?" he asked, looking at her briefly before training his eyes on the road.

"That'd be nice."

"Here." He took his iPod from his pocket. "The auxiliary cable's already connected."

"Awesome," she muttered. After finding it, she scrolled through his music until she found something she liked.

_The only time I feel good fallin',  
><em>_Is when I'm falling fast and hard for you.  
><em>_The last two digits when I'm calling,  
><em>_Fade away, but somehow I'll get through.  
><em>_The only time I feel good sinking,  
><em>_Is when I'm sinking fast and deep for you.  
><em>_You caught me as I was winking,  
><em>_Now I think my winking days are through._

"I love this song," he said. "I didn't know you knew this song."

"In your defense, we don't really know each other," she said, feeling slightly more at ease. "But yeah, I love this song. It makes me feel like I'm in a movie."

"The best kind of songs," he agreed.

They fell into a comfortable silence, listening to the song as they stared out into the too-familiar roads. When the next song came around, however, Clary's mood shifted.

Her jam.

She always felt like singing really loudly when this song came on, and she was worried that she wouldn't be able to stay still now that it was playing. She felt half-tempted to change it, but she decided that she wanted to leave it.

_Let me know that I've done wrong,  
><em>_When I've known this all along.  
><em>_I go around a time or two,  
><em>_Just to waste my time with you.  
><em>_Tell me all that you've thrown away,  
><em>_Find out games you don't wanna play.  
><em>_You are the only one that needs to know._

She tried to keep her fingers and toes from bouncing, but it was impossible. This was _her _song. She'd been dancing stupidly to it since she turned eleven, and now, at seventeen-going-on-eighteen, it made her feel alive. It reminded her of easier times, of times when all of her friends were close and very much _alive_.

The mention—hell, the mere thought—of Jordan's death should have been enough to sober her up, but she adored this song. Instead of letting guilt and grief get the best of her, she started singing along, suddenly not caring about what Jace might think of her. Even if he did ended up concluding that she was insane, she wouldn't see him again after the festival was over and they both went their separate ways. Granted, she didn't know where he was going to college, but she didn't need to. There was no way that the two of them, as different as they were, had chosen the same college.

Jace glanced over at her, a small smile forming on his face. "You like this song?"

"I adore this song."

"Me too," he said, and began singing along. She had no time to be surprised; instead, she fought to keep up with the singing, finding that the song—and the singing—lifted her spirits. After the song was done, she laughed in a way she hadn't in weeks.

"What's coming up next?" Jace asked her, looking like he was genuinely enjoying singing along with her. It was a ridiculous bonding type of thing, and she found herself loving it.

"We'll see," she said coyly, scrolling through his iPod.

When the song started playing, Jace registered it and only had time to say, "Oh my God" before the singing began.

_Oh, well imagine, _

_As I'm pacing the pews in a church corridor,  
><em>_And I can't help but to hear,  
><em>_No, I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.  
><em>"_What a beautiful wedding!  
><em>_What a beautiful wedding!" says a bridesmaid to a waiter  
><em>"_And yes, but what a shame,  
><em>_What a shame the poor groom's bride is a whore."_

They laughed and sang along to the songs that had rooted themselves deep within their hearts during their teenage years. It was odd, to reminisce about those times with someone who had never been a part of them, but she did it anyway. She thought about Jordan while she sang with Jace. She thought about how it had once been her best friend to understand her taste in music, how it had once been him with whom she sang these songs with. It was enough to sober her up for a bit, but, as she saw that Jace was enjoying himself, she continued to do as well—but not without a heavy heart, like a rock had been placed on her chest.

They finally made it to her house. When he paused the music, she snapped back to reality. Her face was flushed from the elated singing, and she felt _happy_. She had lost herself in the music and the unique feeling of traveling by car, and she couldn't help but smile as she turned to the guy who'd given her the ride in the first place.

"So that was fun," she said to him, unable to keep herself from smiling.

"It really was," he replied, allowing a smile to make its way onto his face.

"Listen," she told him, "I was thinking of going over to Jordan's again tomorrow and look at his room, maybe? Just to see if we find something."

He nodded. "That makes sense."

At that, she gave him a soft, tired smile. The excitement was beginning to wear down. "Okay. Would it be terrible if I asked for a ride?"

"Not at all. I'll pick you up at two?"

"Sounds good. And thank you for today," she added. "For the ride and everything else."

"You're welcome," he said with a quick nod.

She exited his truck, slamming the door shut with enough force so it would close. She made her way into the house, the smell of the ocean welcoming her home. She had a stupid smile on her face, but she couldn't deny the heaviness in her chest. However, she could pretend that it was exhaustion, even for just a second. Even when she felt his absence. She remembered Jace and thought of him as a reminder than Jordan would always be there in the weirdest of ways, through other people.

She didn't go into her house straight away. She watched as he drove away, the headlights illuminating the street. She bit her lip, letting the breeze fuel her exhaustion a bit more. She felt herself swaying on her feet, her head getting lighter and lighter by each second that passed by. When she felt like she was exhausted enough to pass out, she went inside, going back to her everyday life.

* * *

><p><em>Let us know what you think!<em>


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